


What Remains

by thesaddestboner



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Detroit Red Wings, Gen, Non-Famous Family Members As Characters, Plot Twist, mention of family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-04
Updated: 2004-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Take a closer look.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Remains

**Author's Note:**

> Repost of an older fic. Inspired a bit by [this](http://nullrefer.com/?http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2341432/1/Oubliette) and Tammy's [Maybe In Michigan Too](http://nullrefer.com/?http://tammysfics.tripod.com/twilight.html). Minor edits have been made.
> 
> This could probably stand to be edited more.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

"What thou lovest well remains, the rest is dross."  
— Ezra Pound

On Steve's right is Lisa, a thin whisper of a nightgown all that is separating their bare skin. Her small frame is is curled against the curve of his shoulder, long brown hair pillowed against her cheek. One leg wrapped around Steve's beneath the comforter, one hand slipped into his in the midst of her dreams.

On Steve's left is Brendan. Steve is cradling him in his left arm, Brendan's cheek scraping against the bare white of Steve's left shoulder. Brendan's fingers are intwined with Steve's, their wedding bands catching the glare of the full moon looming outside the bedroom window.

Steve stirs in his sleep, slightly, gravitating toward the warmth of Lisa, but Brendan pulls him back to the middle. 

As he always does.

-

Daylight breaks, casting icicles of light into his eyes. Steve presses a white forearm over his wounded eyes and groans.

A blast of cold air sends an icy finger running down his spine, and Steve curls into a ball but that does not make the heat come.

The previously occupied bed is now empty, and the only remnants of last night are two dips in the mattress. The one to his left long and straight, and the other is curved like a crescent moon. 

Steve rolls onto one side and gazes at the broken face of the alarm clock.

He grunts in dismay. "7:30. Slept in, again." Steve kicks off the comforters and pads down the hall in his stockinged feet. The smell of of bacon wafts through the air, and he follows it to the kitchen.

Lisa is over the stove, pushing bacon and sausage links around in a pan, one hand resting on her hip. 

Steve steps up behind her and loops an arm around her waist. "Good morning, sweetheart," he mumbles into the base of her neck, giving her a squeeze.

Lisa sets aside the plastic spatula and turns into his embrace, brushing his mussed brown hair off of his forehead. "Morning, hon. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Go wake up the girls for school."

Steve smiles, and wonders how he can continue to find new ways to fall in love with that woman every day. "Ok." Steve gives her an affectionate peck on the cheek. "Where did Brendan go?"

"I don't know," Lisa sighs, turning her attention back to the stovetop, the spell broken. "I think he's taking a shower."

" 'kay," Steve says, kissing her cheek again before heading back up the stairs to his daughters' bedrooms.

-

Isabella is already up, staring at the clothes cluttering her closet, spilling out onto the carpeted floor.

"Good morning, angel." Steve leans against the door frame.

"Morning, Dad." Isabella flicks her eyes over him briefly, before tugging a sweater off a hanger. "I can't decide what to wear."

"Just wear what you had on yesterday," Steve suggests.

"But _Da_ -ad," she whines, in the special way that all children know how to whine. "I can't wear the same outfit more than two days in a row."

"Well, then pick something else." Steve ambles into the center of the room and tousles her long brown hair.

She sighs. "You just don't _understand_ , Dad." Isabella sighs again, tossing the sweater onto her bed alongside a pair of blue jeans. "I'll be fine."

"All right. I'm going to go see if your sisters are up." Steve cuffs her shoulder before heading down the hall to the room that the younger girls, Maria and Sophia, share.

Brendan is sitting by Sophia's bedside, just staring. His dark gaze is held firmly in place by little Sophia's golden curls. And Steve wonders if he should be concerned.

"Bren?" Steve touches Brendan's shoulder lightly, with the tips of his fingers.

Shanahan looks up at Steve and smiles. "Mornin', glory."

Steve smiles. No pretenses are needed between the two of them, not anymore. "You ok?" 

"Mm, I'm fine. I'm . . . just thinking."

"About Cathy?"

Brendan shakes his head. "Not this time."

"The twins?" 

Brendan looks back at Sophia, her head resting on her pillow, her thumb resting near her slightly parted lips. "Yeah."

Steve tightens his hand around Brendan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Bren."

"I know, Stevie. It's not your fault . . . It's not anyone's fault, really." Brendan sighs.

"But it _is_ my fault, Brendan. I - "

Brendan gets to his feet. "Shhh, Stevie. Enough . . ." Brendan sniffs the air, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Breakfast's probably ready, anyway."

-

Steve wakes up from his afternoon nap and rolls himself off of the couch, yawning and stretching. The entire house is silent; no, the house is hollow.

Steve, in slippered feet, pads into the kitchen. Dirty dishes clutter the sink, and Steve wonders why Lisa hadn't bothered to clean up after she made breakfast that morning.

A pile of newspapers are stacked by the door, and Steve toes them, before shuffling up the stairs.

He lingers in the doorway of Isabella's bedroom.

A thin blanket of dust coats everything. 

"That girl needs to clean her room when she gets home," he muses to himself, walking over to her vanity and running his index finger over her mirror. 

After flicking the dust off of his fingertip, he goes to his bedroom to get dressed, half expecting Lisa to be back in bed. But she's not there. In fact, it looks like the bed hasn't been used in years.

Steve quickly changes into a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans before making the bed, hastily, and slipping his feet into his sneakers.

He sits on the end of the bed and tugs on the hem of the shabby, faded quilt. 

_We just got this stupid quilt not even a month ago. How could it be in such poor shape already_ , Steve wonders to himself, puzzled and growing faintly annoyed. _I should put in a call to the manufacturer._

He abandons the quilt and heads downstairs to make himself something for lunch. 

He opens the throws open the fridge doors and is surprised to see that it's almost completely empty. Save for a carton of eggs and a 2 liter bottle of club soda, there is nothing worth eating in the fridge.

Steve sighs, and makes a mental note to give Lisa a shopping list when she gets home from wherever she is.

A hand settles on his shoulder and tightens its grip.

Steve looks up sharply.

-

_"Is that the last of everything?" Steve Yzerman dropped what he hoped were the last of their things into the trunk of his Land Rover, hands poised over the hatch._

_"No, wait, Daddy! That's not everything!" Isabella came running, her skis tucked under her arm. "You almost forgot my skis!"_

_"Sorry, sweetie." Steve grinned, taking Isabella's child-sized skis and putting them in the back with the rest of their things. "_ Now _is that everything?"_

_Lisa put Maria and Sophia in their booster seats, next to Brendan and Catherine and their twins. "Sorry it's a bit crowded back there," Lisa laughed, reaching out to ruffle Jack's dark curls._

_Catherine laughed, flipping her long brown hair out of her face. "Oh, Lisa, we're used to cramped quarters by now!" She patted her growing midsection and grinned._

_"And if we weren't already," Brendan chimed in, "we would have to get used to it quick." He cradled little Maggie in the crook of his elbow, as she dozed off peacefully._

_Isabella sat in the way back, but she didn't mind. She had Magee, the family's shar pei, to keep her company. Magee was as much family as the Shanahans were, as far as Isabella was concerned._

_Steve got behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. "Go on, girls," he called out to his young daughters. "Wave good bye to the house. That's the last time you'll see it for a while."_

_Maria turned in her seat and waved a chubby little hand out the window. "Good bye, house! Good bye!"_

-

_The hand squeezed his shoulder tightly, and Steve glanced up._

_"Brendan?" Steve stumbled to his feet. "Is everything okay?"_

_Brendan's face was a hollow mask of the jovial, smiling Irishman to whom Steve had long become accustomed. "I think you know, Steve."_

-

"No . . . You're confusing me." Steve shakes his head, letting out a tight, nervous laugh.

"You know, Steve." Brendan's voice sounds like a faint echo of a lost memory, so distant. So far away. "You _know_."

Steve shivers, and feels the gooseflesh raise on his arms. "I don't. I - "

Brendan reaches for him, flickering like the wavering flame of a candle. "You do. You just have to remember." Brendan brushes his fingertips over Steve's temples and draws him close. "Do you?"

He closes his eyes. Images dart behind his eyelids. Something stirs deep within him, and he finally opens his eyes. "Yes. I remember everything."

Brendan drops his hands from the sides of Steve's face, lets his arms hang limply at his at his sides. "What do you remember, Steve?"

"We were on our way to the cabin . . . Up north. All nine of us . . . Me, Lisa, the girls. You, Cathy and the twins."

"For a ski trip."

"A ski trip," Steve echoes.

Brendan says nothing, but nods to Steve to continue.

"I don't know how it happened. All I remember is spinning. It felt like I was spinning into eternity . . . And the white. I remember the white. Then . . ." He trails off.

"Then?" Brendan prompts.

"The black. I remember the blackness. And when I opened my eyes, I was home." Steve stares down at his hands, at the thick scars running up and down his bared arms. "You and Lisa, Sophia and Izzy were with me . . . Maria and the twins were gone. Cathy was gone. Even Magee was gone."

"Why were they gone?"

"They didn't survive?"

Lisa slips her hand into Steve's and squeezes it. "They _did_ survive. _We_ didn't."

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
